


Wayward Son

by castieldauntlesswinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castieldauntlesswinchester/pseuds/castieldauntlesswinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's first nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayward Son

"Cas! Cas what the hell! Cas, wake up!"  
"Dean!" Castiel’s wiry figure shot upright in the bed beside Dean, eyes frantically searching the room. Dean had no choice but to grip the angel’s shoulders, his eyes electric blue in overpowering terror. Dean slid his hands from Cas’s shoulders roughly over his neck, settling firmly on the man’s jaw, tearing Cas’s attention towards his cool green gaze. "Dean!" His breath began to slow, but his wide eyes and frantic hands betrayed him, gathering up the blankets around him furiously, then gripping at Dean’s wrists and gritting his teeth.   
"Cas! Cas look at me! Hey, talk to me!" Dean fought for Castiel’s attention. He’d never seen him so shaken, rocked to the core. It scared him, and his face betrayed him. His eyebrows furrowed and his gaze intensified, studying Cas’s expression with his lips unconsciously parted, searching for the problem, the root of his fear. Recognizing those green eyes he knew so well, the storm in Castiel’s eyes began to ebb away, the tension in his slender body subsiding, lithe hands falling limp.   
"Dean…" His arms wrapped quickly around Castiel as he slumped into Dean’s chest, his coarse, messy hair brushing under Dean’s chin, settling into his lover’s arms. The sudden course of events came as such a surprise to Dean that he took a moment to adjust- Castiel had slept like a rock in his arms every night without fail, until tonight. The odd mix of confusion and fear wrenched through his stomach. Yet something about it felt right; like Castiel needed him. He was an angel, for crying out loud, he never needed anyone. Or anything. But he needed Dean now, and he pulled Castiel into him, folded his restrained sobs into his chest, stroked his hand soothingly over the notches in his spine, the sinewy muscle stretched over his frame that Dean’s hands already knew so well. The angel shook in his embrace; Dean’s arms instinctively tightening around his lover, dragging him closer. Dean let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His brows furrowed, a new trouble surfacing in his mind. What could reduce a warrior of heaven to shake in the arms of a man in the middle of the night, sobbing of fear and anguish? Dean couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine, anything bringing so much torment to his only love.  
Finally Cas drew his head away from Dean’s now glistening chest, his cheeks a damp, reddened mess, blue eyes shining bright beneath the tears. “I’m sorry Dean, I- I didn’t want to wake you-” Dean cut him off right there, dragging Castiel back into his arms. He laced one hand into the angel’s silky hair, curled the other tight around his waist, brushed his lips over Cas’s ear; let out a long breath. Dean’s voice flowed over Castiel’s ear and into his mind like the trickle of rain along glass.   
"Listen, Castiel." He pressed his nose to the side of his lover’s face. "You can wake me up anytime, for any reason. Or for no reason at all." Cas closed his eyes and truly relaxed in Dean’s arms, his muscles no longer rigid. Dean let out another long, hot breath against Castiel’s face, moving his hands to hold Cas’s face- to hold his purpose in life, his joy, and wipe away the tears. "Just know that." Cas touched his forehead to Dean’s, pressed their noses together. He closed his eyes, breathing in the moment. It was the first one like it he’d ever had. It was new and interesting. Warm. "Do you want to talk about it?" His eyes opened again, and he stared into the green eyes that he’d burned into his memory long ago, yet still couldn’t soak them in enough. He paused for a long moment, halfheartedly debating that perhaps it would be best not to talk about it- but he knew such a thought was ludicrous. This was Dean. He deserved to know.  
"I was in hell again, fighting for my life…" He paused. This story would not come out easily. "My grace was leaking dangerously in too many places, my blade broken, my eyes growing dark… I was separated from the garrison, in an instant I had lost them. I thought they were dead." Castiel took a long pause, couldn’t make himself meet the love in Dean’s eyes. "It was my fault." He brought a hand up to Dean’s cheek, still averting his gaze, but taking comfort in feeling Dean push his face earnestly, gently, into his palm. "I caught sight of you then. I fought harder… Not hard enough." He paused again, the words stubbornly refusing to be released out into the open air. "I fought. It felt like years had passed when I was finally near you. I stretched out my hand, and as my fingers just brushed your arm…" The pain on his face was excruciating, unbearable; his hands reached for something that seemed out of reach. "…a demon crushed through my rib cage and into my heart with an ax." He swallowed hard at the memory, a slight cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. His heart seemed to drop through the floor. "It sent me flying backwards, my grace was pouring out of my chest." The next part of the dream pumped adrenaline through Castiel’s blood, he gritted his teeth and held back a growl just from the memory of it. His breath quickened again. "They were everywhere- and I just- I couldn’t get to you-" Dean’s hand pulled Castiel’s head to his chest again, his arm curling up around his back. Cas’s arms suddenly gripped him so tight Dean thought he might suffocate, but he didn’t care. He pressed his lips gently against Castiel’s forehead, dug his face into his angel’s hair, tears spilling over his cheeks and onto his lover.  
The two sat that way for who knows how long- in such embraces one easily loses track of the time. Castiel let out sounds that only hell-tortured souls could know, and Dean’s heart broke with each and every one, a new flood of tears finding their way into Castiel’s hair. Dean’s bones grew weary under the sorrow, and ever so gently, he began to ease Castiel’s head onto Dean’s own pillow, keeping the angel’s face in his chest, his arms still protectively over him. He tugged the blankets back over them, smoothing them lovingly over his angel’s shoulder, and down his body. He curled those fingers back into Castiel’s hair, folded his leg warmly over Castiel’s, held him still, held him near. He wanted Cas to know, needed him to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere.  
Castiel shook again, and Dean felt a tear run down his arm, and another, and another. “Come here,” he whispered without meaning to, and held his angel so tight that there was no more space between them. Dean truly felt the shakes that racked Castiel’s body, from his core, rattling his bones, out through his muscles and to the tips of fingers. “Shhh, shhh…” He whispered so quietly he doubted that Castiel could hear the shake in his voice. Tears continued to roll down Dean’s face, soaking the pillow beneath him.   
An idea, ever so small, formed in the back of Dean’s mind, the only other thing he knew to do. The idea grew, little by little, until Dean softly, shyly, began to sing.   
“Carry on my wayward son, There’ll be peace when you are done.  
Lay your weary head to rest, Don’t you cry no more.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I do not own Supernatural or its characters, nor the song quoted. This is an original fanwork.)


End file.
